When My Mate Let His Mistress Kill Our Baby

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed seven times, the sound echoing through the cavernous dining hall of the Crescent Moon Pack house like a death knell. Tonight was the third anniversary of the day the Moon Goddess tied my soul to Damon’s. Three years of marriage. Three years of silence.

I smoothed the silk of my white gown, my fingers trembling slightly. My father, General Roberts, had sent this dress from the Northern Territory. He thought I was happy. He thought his little girl was ruling beside a powerful Alpha, secure in her position. He didn’t know that the high neckline was there to hide bruises, or that the long sleeves covered the grip marks Damon left when his temper flared.

"You’re vibrating, Seraphina. Stop it," Damon growled from the head of the table. He didn't look at me. He was too busy staring at his phone, probably checking the perimeter reports—or so he claimed.

"I'm sorry, Alpha," I whispered, lowering my gaze. My wolf, usually a source of comfort, was curled into a tight ball in the back of my mind, too weak to even whimper.

Across from me sat Gia Snyder. The Beta female. The woman who wore my husband’s hoodies and slept in the room next to his while I was relegated to the guest wing. She was picking at her steak with a bored expression, her dark eyes flicking toward me with predatory amusement.

"Happy Anniversary, Luna," Gia said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She reached for the bottle of expensive red wine Damon had opened. "A toast to your... endurance."

As she poured, her hand "slipped." It was a clumsy, theatrical jerk of the wrist. The dark crimson liquid splashed across the table and soaked into the pristine white bodice of my dress. It looked like a gunshot wound spreading over my chest.

The cold wetness seeped through to my skin. I gasped, standing up abruptly. "Gia!"

"Oh, goddess!" Gia dropped the bottle, shattering it. She clutched her head, her body convulsing in a fake tremor. "My wolf... she's unstable tonight, Damon! The Luna's scent... it's triggering her! She thinks it's a threat!"

It was a lie. A pathetic, obvious lie. But Damon slammed his hand on the table, the silverware jumping.

"Seraphina!" His voice was a whip crack. "Look what you've done. You've agitated her."

I froze, the wine dripping down my front. "Damon, she threw wine on me. I didn't do anything."

"Do not argue with me," he snarled, his eyes flashing with the command of an Alpha. The pressure in the room spiked, a heavy weight pushing down on my shoulders. "Gia is vital to this pack. Her wolf is sensitive. Apologize to her. Now."

My heart hammered against my ribs. *Apologize? For being assaulted?* But I knew the drill. If I refused, he would lock me out of the pack mind-link. He would cut the funding to the orphanage. He would find a way to hurt someone I cared about.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I bowed my head, staring at the ruined silk. "I apologize, Beta Gia. I didn't mean to upset your wolf."

Gia smirked, the "tremors" vanishing instantly. "It's okay, Luna. Just... try to be less provoking next time."

The dinner ended in suffocating tension. We moved to the Grand Hall for the pack gathering. I wanted to run upstairs and scrub the wine from my skin, but Damon grabbed my elbow, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. "You stay. We need to present a united front."

A united front. The joke was bitter on my tongue.

As the pack members mingled, Gia stood near the fireplace, holding a tray of crystal champagne flutes. She caught my eye, her smile widening. With a deliberate shove, she tipped the tray. The crystal smashed onto the marble floor, exploding into a thousand jagged shards.

Pack members gasped. Gia fell to her knees amidst the glass, letting out a guttural, feral growl. "She's trying to hurt me! The Luna wants me dead!"

The accusation was insane. I was standing ten feet away. But the pack looked to their Alpha, waiting for his judgment.

Damon didn't help her up. Instead, he turned to me, his face a mask of cold indifference. He sat on his throne-like chair, crossing his legs. "She's having an episode, Seraphina. Her wolf feels threatened by your dominance. You need to submit to calm her down."

"Submit?" I whispered. "Damon, there is glass everywhere."

"I gave you an order, Luna," he said, his voice dropping to that terrifyingly quiet tone—the Alpha Tone. It vibrated in my bones, compelling my body to obey even as my mind screamed in protest. "Walk to her. Kneel. Show her you are not a threat."

I looked at the jagged path between us. I was barefoot; I had taken my heels off earlier to be more comfortable.

"Damon, please," I begged softly. "My feet... I haven't shifted in months. I heal like a human."

He leaned forward, his eyes devoid of any love, any recognition of the girl he once courted. "If you don't do this, Seraphina, I'll have to call your father. I'll tell him his daughter is abusing my Beta. Imagine what the Council would do to his military funding if they heard that."

The blackmail. Always the blackmail.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I took a step. Then another.

The first shard sliced into my heel like a razor. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. I kept walking. *Left foot. Right foot.* The pain was sharp, agonizing, shooting up my legs with every step. I could feel warm blood pooling under my soles, mixing with the spilled champagne and glass dust.

The room was dead silent. The Omegas looked away in shame. The warriors watched blankly. No one moved to help the Luna.

I reached Gia. She was kneeling on the floor, perfectly unharmed, watching my bloody footprints with glee. I sank to my knees in front of her, the glass biting into my shins now. I lowered my head to the floor, exposing my neck in the ultimate sign of submission.

"I submit," I choked out. "I am beneath you."

Gia laughed—a bright, cruel sound. "There. My wolf feels much better now."

Damon stood up. "Good. Go to your room, Seraphina. You've ruined the evening enough."

I limped out of the hall, leaving bloody tracks on the white marble. Every step was torture. When I finally reached my room, I collapsed onto the bathroom floor. My feet were shredded. I needed bandages. I needed antiseptic. I needed a doctor.

I reached out through the mind-link, searching for the familiar mental signature of Dr. Vance. *"Doctor? Please. It's Seraphina. I need—"*

*Static.*

A wall of black silence slammed into my mind. Damon. He had blocked my link. He had isolated me completely.

The door to my bedroom banged open. I flinched, curling into a ball on the bathmat. Damon stood in the doorway, looming over me. He didn't look at my bleeding feet. He looked at my face, disgusted by my tears.

"Why do you always have to make a scene?" he spat. "Walking on glass? Playing the victim? It’s pathetic, Seraphina."

"You ordered me to," I whispered, my voice breaking.

"I ordered you to calm my Beta. You chose the dramatics." He turned his back on me, his hand on the doorknob. "Clean yourself up. And don't expect anyone to come help you. You need to learn your lesson."

The door clicked shut. The lock turned.

I sat alone in the dark, pulling a shard of crystal out of my arch with trembling fingers, realizing with terrifying clarity that the man I married didn't just hate me. He wanted to break me.